Table Talk
by luckypixi
Summary: When a fed-up Lestrade answers Mycroft's phone, how will one call impact on their relationship when they are invited to a black-tie dinner, where everything that can go wrong does go wrong? Drama and humour R&R?
1. Chapter 1

**This idea came to me and I had to write it : )**

**I've never written Mystrade before, but I've read enough to convert me into a Mystrader...**

**I hope you enjoy this, I'm unsure of the amount of chapters, but hopefully it'll be a good ride. Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards...**

The flat was cold. Wisps of wind seeped through a crack in the curtains and Greg Lestrade instinctively curled closer into the warmish body next to him.

Under the cream coloured duvet, head resting on the black silk pillows, Mycroft Holmes didn't stir, his dark hair flattened to his head. Lestrade nudged him and the politician wrinkled his nose and pulled the duvet up closer to his chin, causing the policeman to open his eyes blearily and tug it back.

'My...' sighed Lestrade, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand and glaring sleepily at his lover. 'Leggo.'

'Mmm?' hummed Mycroft, not quite awake yet.

'Let go of the blanket.' Lestrade smiled gently and leaned forwards to press a gentle kiss on Mycroft's lips.

'Good morning to you, too.' Smiled Mycroft, wrapping his arms around Lestrade's shoulders and pulling him into his warm embrace. Lestrade sighed happily as he rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder, moving closer, if that was possible. Their legs were entwined together, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

It was a Sunday morning, a day that Lestrade loved. Normally Mycroft would bring paperwork home and he'd have a few hours peace, providing nothing happened at the Yard. Somehow, people seemed to give crime a break on a Sunday, although Lestrade highly doubted they were enjoying a roast dinner with their families. It was a mystery, but one he was happy to leave unsolved.

Mycroft forced himself to open his eyes, blinking away the sleep. He looked properly down at the salt and pepper hair of his lover and smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his head.

'Morning, My.' Lestrade croaked, coughing. Years of smoking had done him absolutely no good, and it seems he was paying for it now. Not in the least with the price of nicotine patches.

They lay like that, in contented blissful silence, for a few moments, the sound of the London traffic filling their senses as they enjoyed each others presence.

'How long have you got today?' Lestrade knew he probably couldn't have all day with Mycroft, as galling as it was. He'd have to settle for a few hours at most.

'As long as you'll have me.' Mycroft replied tartly, smiling as Lestrade's snigger vibrated in his shoulder.

The policeman turned in his arms and Mycroft found himself looking down into Lestrade's eyes. Brown eyes, they were, round, happy. Sherlock often remarked at how they made him look like a lost little boy, but in Mycroft's opinion, they were his best feature. So innocent, unassuming.

'All day' murmured Lestrade, leaning up to capture Mycroft's lips with his own. The politician smiled into the kiss, deepening it with a deep throated moan, Lestrade intertwining their fingers together. Shuffling position, Mycroft cupped the back of Lestrade's neck and pulled him impossibly closer, not breaking the kiss.

Suddenly, a shrill sound echoed in the room.

Lestrade's stomach plummeted. Breaking the kiss, the policeman closed his eyes, hard. Why now? Why did it always have to happen like this?

'I'm so sorry, Gregory.' Mycroft told him softly, gently moving his legs from around Lestrade's, throwing the duvet off himself as he padded across the floor, naked, towards his still ringing phone.

'Holmes.' He answered drily, turning away from Lestrade with a sad look on his face. 'Of course...'

Lestrade sighed and stretched out on the bed, resting his head on his clasped hands under his head. He yawned deeply, closing his eyes again. He may as well go back to sleep, he thought bitterly, as Mycroft continued speaking.

'Thank you, Helena.'

Lestrade didn't open his eyes as Mycroft hung up. He did open his eyes when the bed dipped and Mycroft crawled back under the covers.

'You're not going in?' he asked disbelievingly.

'It's nothing Helena cannot handle.' Mycroft replied tersely.

'Helena?'

'You knew her as Anthea.'

'Oh. Her.' Lestrade smiled. 'Well, that's good.'

'Mmm.' Mycroft eyed him mischievously. 'Where were we?'

Smiling, the two men leaned in together, capturing the others lips in a sweet kiss, bodies connecting, breaths exchanged. Reaching up to pull Mycroft closer, Lestrade smiled into the kiss, Mycroft exploring with his tongue.

Mycroft pushed forwards, leaning heavily towards Lestrade, pushing him onto his back, entwining their fingers, straddling the policeman's hips.

They broke the kiss as Mycroft's phone started ringing again.

'Oh for heavens sake!' Mycroft exclaimed. Even he, every now and then, could get annoyed with that sound.

Lestrade, however had had enough. Pushing Mycroft off him, sending the politician onto his side, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, heading straight for the offending phone.

'George, what on earth-' Mycroft watched open mouthed as Lestrade answered his phone, a determined look in his eyes.

'Mycroft Holmes, his PA speaking.'

Mycroft blinked a few times, just making sure this was real. Who on was Lestrade speaking to?

'Of course...' Lestrade stuck his tongue out at Mycroft, who slowly climbed off the bed. He tried to keep quiet, depending on who Lestrade was talking to. It was very unusual for him not to answer his own phone.

'Three days? I'm sure he could compensate for that, uh huh.'

Mycroft watched as Lestrade strode over to the desk in the corner to write something down.

'Thank you for the call...yes, he'll be there.'

Mycroft knew there was something wrong when Lestrade stilled, his shoulders freezing.

'Of course, if that's required. Thank you.'

The policeman hung up.

'Well?' Mycroft was not an angry man by nature, but he could make a few exceptions.

Lestrade turned to him, wide eyed. He let out a nervous giggle. 'That was the Secretary for the Home Secretary.' He told Mycroft, who stood there with his hands on his hips. 'You've been invited for a three day, long weekend, corporate dinner with several government officials.'

'Right...' Mycroft could tell there was more. 'What else?'

'Hmm?' Lestrade looked slightly shell-shocked at having spoken to someone representing someone so high in the government.

'What else did she say?'

'It's a black tie dinner, with speeches and such. And, My?'

Mycroft looked at him quizzically.

'I've been invited too.'

**Oh dear. What will happen at this dinner, especially if they don't know Lestrade and Mycroft are together? Find out in the next chapters!**

**Oh, re-readers of this chapter will note that I changed Lestrade's name. :/ Ok, so his name is George now, but after having a good think, I don't think I like it :P So now it's Greg, which everyone seems to like, and I think suits him better!**

**I hope you enjoyed that, much more shenanigans to come, don't worry!**

**Please review!**

**X**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello!**

**Thank you for the support for the last chapter, I'm glad you liked it! If you haven't seen the A/N for the last chapter, I've changed Lestrade's name. I couldn't stick to George. So now its back to Greg : ) **

**Hope you like this chapter, it'll get more interesting as it goes on, don't worry. The actual event is going to be awkward. To sat the least.**

**Please review, I'd love to know what you all think!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards...**

Greg watched as the kettle boiled. Standing his kitchen with his shirt half done up, tie hanging around his neck, he just wished he could go back to bed. Mycroft had already left at about half past one that morning, mumbling something about 'idiotic bureaucrats' and he hadn't heard from him since. But that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He was used to waking up on his own on Monday mornings.

Rubbing a hand down his stubble-free face, Lestrade poured out the water into his cup, watching as the tea swirled around inside it. Five days and then he had to endure the weekend from hell. Two whole days of meeting and greeting Members of Parliament, trying to remember to be polite whilst they put his taxes up and his wages down. Why didn't he just leave the phone alone? He had enough to deal with, what with four murder cases on the trot, Sherlock dashing around London like a hyperactive child and a never ending supply of paperwork, that he didn't need this added on too. It also meant he had to apply for time off work.

I was saving those days off for something special, he thought miserably as he spread jam on his toast.

He was just about to put the jar back in the fridge when he noticed a new note pinned to the front of the black appliance.

_Greg, _it read, _After the unfortunate situation of yesterday morning, I feel it prudent to give you more information about the date for which you agreed for us. It will be a black-tie event at which the Prime Minister will be attending and you have agreed to the role of my PA. Anthea is not pleased; she was rather looking forward to this evening. I will therefore be home later on today to begin your training._

_Yours always, Mycroft._

Greg almost choked on his tea, coughing violently. Training? What training did he need? He thought PA's just stood next to the VIP, taking down notes and dashing off to collect drinks. He thought he would just have to stand there, nodding, shaking hands. Apparently not.

Trying not to think about what the rest of the day might hold, Lestrade tied his tie and walked out of his flat, sighing.

-x-

'And you agreed to this?'

Lestrade sighed and sipped another mouthful of scalding hot coffee. 'I didn't really have a choice, Sally.'

Sally snorted, looking out the window at the dreary London skyline. They were at Scotland Yard and were waiting on toxicology reports for the latest murder. 'I didn't see you as the slave type, sir.'

'I'm not going to be his slave! His Personal Assistant, actually.'

'Slave.' Sally told him, ticking another box of her paperwork. 'How did it happen?'

'I answered his phone.' Lestrade sighed again. 'If I ever find myself thinking about doing that again I'm going to slap myself around the face.'

Greg had contacted Dimmock to take his cases this weekend, the younger Inspector quite happy to do so, as long as Sherlock stayed away. Lestrade hadn't argued, knowing it was futile; at least he wouldn't be his problem. So now he had this weekend off, he supposed he better start thinking about it. Members of Parliament? Did he mean Cabinet Members or low ranking ones? But, seeing as the Prime Minister being present...

'Sir?'

Lestrade looked up from the letter P on his report and smiled as a young constable led Mycroft into the room. He looked pointedly at Sally, who smiled through pursed lips.

'I'll be...'

Mycroft nodded politely to her as she passed, moving towards the desk and pressing a soft kiss to Lestrade's cheek.

'So?'

Lestrade looked up at him with a smile on his face, discarding his paperwork. 'So?'

'Have you thought anymore about this weekend?'

'I don't really have a choice, do I?'

'No...but you did answer the phone.'

'For my sins...' muttered Lestrade, picking at a piece of BlueTac stuck to his desk.

'Don't be liked that, Gregory. This weekend will be much more uplifting with you present.'

'Hmm...'

Mycroft sighed, picking at his umbrella. 'There are just a few things to discuss.'

'Like what?'

'Titles and such.'

Lestrade stared at him. 'Titles? Do you have a title like Lord Knight of the Realm, his Seconded Royal Highness Mycroft Holmes, or something?'

Mycroft blinked.

'No...' he said slowly.

'I was joking, My.' Greg told him, smiling fondly.

'Quite.' Mycroft pursed his lips. 'Just the small matter of you calling me 'Sir'' Mycroft internally blanched at this.

Lestrade eyed him. 'Sir?' I have to call you sir?'

'Yes...being my PA it would be unprofessional for you to call me anything else.'

'Right...' Lestrade scratched the back of his neck. 'Sir.'

'Not now!' barked Mycroft, eyes glinting. 'I do not wish for you to call me that, but you leave me with no choice.' It felt foreign, having that word come from Lestrade's mouth. It wasn't often he had felt a class divide between them and he certainly wasn't going to start finding differences now. It was different for Anthea because she got to go home every now and then; Lestrade lived with him. He hated having to be so professional at times, especially at a personal level.

'Okay, okay.' Greg held his hands up. 'Sir.'

Mycroft shot him a look but didn't respond. Lestrade laughed good naturedly and leaned back in his chair. 'What else?'

Mycroft hummed. 'You need to wear a tuxedo to the actual event; smart casual afterwards.' He told Greg.

Lestrade nodded. By smart causal he expected he'll be wearing another expensive suit he couldn't afford. 'Will there be lots of PA's there?'

'Yes. Though you'll be with me the whole time.' Mycroft answered truthfully. He needed a PA to field his calls, stopping his diary from becoming impossibly full, other certain individuals just used PA's to do all the work for them, from writing speeches to choosing their meals for them.

'Right...maybe we can all gang up and start a revolt against the toffs, eh?'

'Please don't' Mycroft told him, eying Lestrade suspiciously, not sure if his police officer was being serious or not.

'Well, you better treat me nicely then.' Lestrade winked.

'Of course...I wouldn't actually be speaking directly to you during the evening; you'll join me for dinner at a certain table, sit quietly and blend in.'

Lestrade scoffed. 'Where's the fun in that?'

'It's politics, Gregory; it's not supposed to be fun.'

'I can't even speak to the deputy oh whats-his-name?'

'Nicholas?'

Lestrade laughed despite himself. 'Whatever.'

'No...You're not to speak to anyone unless spoken to. Its general procedure.'

'There's a lot of red-tape to this.' Lestrade moaned, going back to his paperwork, ticking another box.

Mycroft sighed. 'I know.'

The government official leaned forwards, tilting Lestrade's head up for a gentle kiss. 'I will see you at home.'

Lestrade hummed in answer, smiling as Mycroft walked out, swing the door shut with the end of his umbrella.

Now it looked as if he would have to buy two new suits, he thought, wincing at the thought of the cost.

This weekend had better be a good one.

**Will it? I don't think!**

**Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Please leave a comment, I'll be back soon!**

**xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi!**

**Sorry for the wait for this chapter...RL is quite busy right now :D**

**I hope you're enjoying this so far, I'd love to know your views!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards...**

'No, Gregory, the left hand side.'

'Oh for love of...'

Greg put his mug of coffee down on the other side of Mycroft this time and pulled out the left-hand chair and sat heavily down to his own kitchen table.

'Thank you. I will be sitting to the right of important dignitaries; you stay on my left at all times.'

'Yes, yes.' Greg narrowed his eyes evilly. 'Sir.'

Mycroft rolled his eyes, nevertheless inclining his head to kiss Lestrade softly on the lips. 'This is important, Gregory. Now; If you were to be approached by, say, the Health Secretary, what would you say?'

'Stop mucking around with the NHS and listen to the doctors who bloody well don't want his Health Reforms?' Greg suggested, sipping his coffee.

Mycroft was not impressed. 'No.' He stated. 'Try again.'

Lestrade sighed, closing his eyes. 'I say nothing. I smile like an idiot, pull out a borrowed Blackberry and pretend to take a call.'

'Precisely.'

'What if he talks to me?'

'He won't. He hasn't a need to. I can't imagine we'll meet him; he's too busy with, as you say, his health reforms.'

'Hmm. Poor Andy, not invited to a fancy dinner.' Greg pulled an exaggerated sad face and went back to his coffee and newspaper. It was Monday night, and he'd had a long day. This was the last thing he needed.

'This is all your fault, you know.'

Greg looked at his partner with wide eyes. 'My fault?'

'Of course.' Mycroft smiled, his eyes warm. 'You answered my phone, agreed to this dinner; ergo it's your fault.'

'Humf.' Lestrade glared at Mycroft, before breaking into a smile. 'So, it would be...frowned upon...if I, say, hit the Prime Minister.'

'Trust me, my dear, you wouldn't make it anywhere near David if certain people thought you meant him harm.'

'That's no fun.'

'I assure you, I do not want to have you brought home in a body bag.'

The kitchen had darkened since they'd arrived home in a sleek dark car that had appeared outside Scotland Yard. Mycroft signed his name on one last piece of paper, delicately put it into a manila folder and closed it. Lestrade finished his coffee and put it in the sink, folder up his paper and throwing it on top of the pile. Mycroft bristled, but didn't react.

'So.' Lestrade kissed Mycroft on the lips again, lips travelling up his jaw before ghosting over his neck. Leaning forwards, he breathed into the skin behind Mycroft's ear, feeling the politician shiver. 'Sir...'

'Hmm?'

'Is there anything else you require of me before I tend to your next appointment?'

Greg kissed his neck, deft fingers moving to undo his lovers tie, pulling it off his shoulders, feeling Mycroft reach around his waist, pulling him closer into his body.

'I believe there is something I, ah, require of you.'

'Anything, sir' Lestrade smiled, Mycroft mirroring him and closing his eyes as his policeman kissed under his jaw, sucking gently. He moved his head to catch Greg's lips with his own, pushing forwards, hands moving to Greg's greying hair.

The doorbell pulls them apart.

'Oh for heavens sake' murmured Mycroft into Lestrade's mouth, Greg smiling as he got up to answer the door.

Mycroft made himself somewhat more presentable and pulled his tie back over his neck.

'Hello, Anthea. What's up?'

'Good evening, Detective Inspector. Sir.'

'Anthea, can I help you?'

'Am I to understand that I shall not be attending the Function this weekend?'

'That is correct. They will be expected a male to be attending with me, not a female. I am sorry.'

Anthea sighed. 'I was rather hoping you'd make an allowance.'

'I do promise to take you on the next one.'

Anthea smiled.

'You may have the weekend off, though.'

Greg watched the display like a tennis match and poured himself another cup of coffee.

'Good evening, sir, Detective Inspector.'

Greg nodded as Anthea closed the door behind herself.

'I don't think I'll ever work her out.'

Mycroft smiled, motioning Lestrade forwards with a beckoning finger. 'She's had her eye on another intern for a few months now.' He told his lover, kissing him again.

Greg hummed into the kiss, fingers caressing Mycroft's neck as the politicians hands moved downwards. Lestrade moved to undo Mycroft's shirt button's, tongue slipping into his lover's mouth as he rocked forwards, straddling Mycroft on the chair.

'Shall we continue this in the bedroom, sir?'

'Hmm...marvellous idea.'

-x-

Later that night, wrapped in each other's arms, legs entwined, hands clasped together, Greg rested his head in the crook of Mycroft's neck, humming gently, pressing tiny kisses into the still feverish skin.

'My?'

'Hmm?'

'Love you.'

Mycroft smiled and pressed a kiss to Lestrade's forehead.

'And I you.'

Greg yawned contentedly and moved closer to Mycroft, eyes drifting shut.

'If the Secretary of State was to approach you, what you say again?'

Greg groaned and turned over.

He didn't catch Mycroft's smile.

**A short chapter, but the dinner is up next, so please stick with it :D**

**Again, sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it? :/**

**Please review!**

**X**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi!**

**Wow, sorry for the wait! **

**A slightly longer chapter here, I hope you enjoy…the dinner is upon us!**

**Please leave me a review, I would really love to know what you think of it!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards…..**

'Gregory, stop fiddling with your tie'

'But it's uncomfy!'

'For goodness sake! Come here, then'

Gregory frowned as he shuffled nearer Mycroft. They were currently riding in the back of a very expensive looking car, and Lestrade felt rather exposed. He didn't like the idea of lording around in front of other people, but Mycroft, it seemed, didn't have that problem.

Deft fingers gently undid, then redid, Lestrade's bow tie. Greg had never got the hang of tying the damn things. The inspector sighed as the government officials' fingers ghosted over his neck; he could feel his hot breath tickle his face.

'And they have no idea you're gay?'

Mycroft pursed his lips at the rather abrupt question 'No.' he stated. 'And it is to remain that way.'

'…why?' probed Lestrade.

'Because they don't need to know. I like to keep some facts about my life private.'

Greg looked indignant. 'Oh, so I'm a "fact" now, am I?'

'No!' Mycroft looked stung. 'That's not what I meant, Gregory.'

But Greg smiled softly and Mycroft finally caught on. He laughed, a rarity outside of their own home unfortunately.

As they turned into the hotel's driveway, Mycroft caught Greg grinning broadly.

'Look' he smiled sarcastically, pointing. Mycroft craned his neck to see.

'I told you the Health Secretary would be here!'

Mycroft rolled his eyes

-x-

'Mr Mycroft Holmes'

'Good evening, Stephen.' Replied Mycroft, nodding curtly.

The man, Stephen Whoever, turned to Gregory, who looked back at him.

He could feel Mycroft tense next to him and his heart sank. What did he say? Mycroft told him not to talk if he could help it…

'Good…evening?' he said, nodding in the same fashion as Mycroft.

'Got yourself a new one, have you, Holmes?' Stephen turned back to Mycroft, completely ignoring Gregory.

'Indeed' clarified his partner, smiling. 'Takes time for them to get the hang of it.' He added.

'Yes, I suppose it does. Now, about these National Average Figures…'

Gregory bit back some well-chosen swear words and followed Mycroft and this Stephen fellow through the entrance hall. He curled his hands into fists and pretended to type into his palm; always calmed him down.

'Gregory!'

His head snapped up as Mycroft called for him; he had now moved into the dining area.

'Yes?' he moved over to them and stopped at the look on Mycroft's face; one eyebrow was risen. He'd missed something out.

'…Sir?' he added.

Stephen whistled. 'I think you were better off with the other one, to tell you the truth!' he laughed, patting Mycroft hard on the back.

Mycroft closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and Greg held his breath.

'Sorry, sir' he shuffled on his feet.

'No matter, Gregory.' Mycroft told him, smiling. Stephen moved away, smiling inanely at someone else.

'Please' implored Mycroft under his breath. 'Please try and at least act professional'

'I'm not doing this on purpose!' Lestrade hissed back, indignant. 'It's these posh ponces lording it about. I don't know how you stand it.'

'Because it's my job.' Mycroft told him. It was rather comical really; Mycroft was stood there looking down on him as if he were having 'stern words' with his PA and a group of well-to-do ladies in the corner were whispering. It seemed even the British Government wasn't immune to gossipers.

'Would the ladies and gentlemen please now move to the dining area?' a well- dressed lady with brown hair spoke to the room at large, smiling broadly. Gregory watched as she scanned the room and caught Mycroft's eye. He felt rather like the third wheel as she stared into his partner's eyes.

'Ahem'

Mycroft looked at him. 'I do find it fairer to warn you now…'he started, looking for the first time, uncomfortable.

'That you've got a fan' Greg giggled, trying to keep a straight face.

'If you like'

'Well, as long as she doesn't try and drag you into the cloakroom, it's alright with me.' Greg told him. 'At least I get you at home.'

'Thank you, Gregory.'

They moved together through to the dining room. It was now that Lestrade noticed the other PA's. They were the hang-abouts, the runners who were always trailing behind someone in a more expensive suit or dress than them. All he could say was that he was glad he could go back to his day job.

'Ah, Mr Holmes'

'Miss Larkson' Mycroft smiled politely and bent to kiss her extended hand. Greg looked away.

'And this must be your new…acquired help?'

'Yes, this is Gregory'

'Charming' Miss Larkson had a sickly sweet voice and didn't look at Gregory.

'You must sit with me, Mycroft. I have urgent matters to discuss with you.'

'I'm seated next to David, actually…' Mycroft tried to sidle out of it.

'No matter, I'll sit next to your other side.'

Gregory's ears perked. That's where he was supposed to sit, he remembered Mycroft telling him.

'Of course.' Mycroft smiled and motioned for her to lead the way.

Gregory followed the pair.

This night was just getting better and better.

**Stephen Whoever and Miss Larkson bear no resemblance to anyone in the British Government to my knowledge : )**

**Thank you for reading, please leave a review…it would be much appreciated as to whether or not I continue this fic!**

**I'll update soon….**

**X**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi!**

**Not a very long chapter here, but I hope you enjoy it!**

**Lots of humour to come, but I promise to keep it in character as much as I can! : )**

**Thanks for reading so far, please leave a review!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards…..**

Greg tried to catch Mycroft's eye as he was pushed along in the throng of people making their way into the dining area.

'There will be no need for you to accompany Mr Holmes further' Miss Larkson turned to Greg with a sneer on her face and contempt in her eyes. The people parted around them, leaving the trio alone in the entrance hallway.

Greg gritted his teeth and looked at Mycroft, who looked between the pair, trying to maintain a professional air. His face remained impassive, but he sucked his tongue in his mouth in annoyance, glancing sideways at the smaller woman next to him.

'Did you not hear me?' asked Larkson in a sickly sweet voice, eyes widening, 'I said-'

'I'm not deaf, thank you very much' Greg told her, before shooting a look at Mycroft, turning on his heel and walking back out the way he came. He didn't look back.

Mycroft stood stock still, mouth slightly open, watching his partner's retreating back. He watched Miss Larkson turn back to him.

'How rude, I just don't know where these people come from, I really don't. Hardly cut from the same cloth as and me, is that not right Mr Holmes?'

Mycroft stared down at her. He held his tongue, though his eyes narrowed in anger. He felt a sense of injustice bubble within him and he knew if he said anything, he might regret it. He needed to talk to Gregory…

'If you'll excuse me…' he said tersely, sidestepping Miss Larkson and striding back down the hall.

'But dinner will be served in five minutes!' called Larkson, throwing her hands into the air.

'I'll be in time' promised Mycroft, closing the door between them. Looking in all directions, he sent a quizzical look at the porter on duty, who nodded towards the main entrance. Mycroft sighed and made his way outside.

He found Greg stood leaning against the wall just behind the steps, bowtie undone, cigarette in his hand.

Mycroft sighed loudly as he approached, watching Greg's head snap up, before taking another drag.

'I thought you were about to have dinner with Lady Muck' Greg blew smoke through his nose, looking up at the night sky.

'I thought you had given up smoking' Mycroft shot back haughtily, eyeing the offending object in his partner's hand.

'Spare me the sermon' Greg took another lungful of smoke. 'Go and enjoy your caviar.'

Mycroft sniffed. 'You look ridiculous when you're jealous.' He said plainly, reaching out for the cigarette.

'Thanks' Greg replied, letting out a chuckle as Mycroft took a drag. 'Hypocrite.' Mycroft handed back the cigarette.

'And I'm not jealous.' He told Mycroft, who coughed with laughter.

'Really? What was that all about then if not jealously?'

'You make me sound like a teenage girl.' Greg sighed sadly, 'I was just annoyed, that's all.'

'Right.' Mycroft grinned evilly, taking the cigarette back again and taking a long drag. They stood in silence for a while, sharing the smoke around them.

'I do need to get back' Mycroft told him apologetically.

'Go on then' Greg nudged him with his elbow, 'Go find Lady Muck and his Honourable Prime Minister. I'm sure they're missing you.'

Mycroft stole a few glances around them before leaning in to kiss Greg on the lips. 'You should come back in as well. It's expected.'

'Oh, well. If it's expected of me, I better do it' joked Greg, taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette onto the floor. 'But you still need to help me with my tie'

Mycroft smiled, leaning forwards to do Gregory's tie back up.

-x-

'I was beginning to worry where you had got to.' Miss Larkson pointedly ignored Greg as the pair walked into the dining area.

'Not far, I assure you.' Mycroft told her, motioning Greg to sit with another small group of PA's. Greg went where he was bid, giving a curt nod to Larkson as he passed. Miss Larkson sniffed, put her head in the air and walked over to Mycroft, taking his arm and leading him to the main table.

Greg watched them go, a sour look on his face. He sat himself down next to a younger man than him, dressed up like a penguin in a black tuxedo and white bow tie. He looked down at his own black tie; maybe there was a meaning to the different colours of tie…some sort of hierarchy?

'Evening' the young man greeted him with a smile.

'Hello' Greg replied, pouring himself a drink of water from the jug in front of him. 'How're you?'

He watched the man shoot a worried look over his shoulder.

'Oh. We're not supposed to talk are we?'

'It is frowned upon. We are seen, not heard.'

Greg snorted, almost choking on his water. He hadn't heard something more ridiculous for a long time.

'What are we, slaves?' he asked incredulously.

'In a manner of speaking.'

'My name's Greg' Greg leaned in, resting his elbows on the table.

The man smiled softly. 'I'm Toby'

'Hello, Toby.'

'Hello, Greg' Toby turned away, taking a sip of his own water.

Greg sat back in his chair. He had found an ally. He looked back over at the table, where Mycroft was in deep conversation with the Prime Minister. Silence descended.

'Which one is yours?' Greg asked Toby, who shot him a confused look before grinning.

'The one on the left.' He motioned towards a posh looking man sitting a few seats away from Mycroft.

'Huh' Greg nodded. 'God, I'm starving.' He hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning.

'Don't expect food,' Toby told him, a sad smile on his face. 'They spare all the expenses'

'Well' Greg craned his neck to see where the waiters were coming from. Then he had an idea. He turned back to Toby.

'Fancy a trip to the kitchen?'

**Thank you for reading, I will update soon!**

**Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think!**

**x**


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